The Young Teacher

Look at that young one there, frolicking without a care,

Pirouetting through tunnels of chores to the Cove of Pleasure.

Basking in the sunlight that casts but a glint on the Lustrous Lake.

Fingering the ferns in the Forest of Foes, all easy and ready for combat.

Look at that young one, standing joyous and free, 

With self-advancement as first priority. 

Look at that young one, wishing to tough it out in the Cavern of Opportunities,

Wishing to wear off the 'I'm home' look and on the fine brink of success.

Her lifelong dream, like a subconscious strain, was to clasp that Torch of Excellence.

Which may bring so much light, as to dazzle up the World of Economy

To the brink of injuring the eyes.

And she cranes towards that dream, jostling through the Measly Maze of Competition.

But how far does the Light of Luminous Lasers spread its wings

Does it reach the homes of others, a victor in its reach?

Or is it merely a victor in its intensity?

An intensity that can injure the eyes by virtue of satiety?

Can it be thinned out to lighten up the lives

Of other Victorious Ones, on their Paths of Progress.

And how did it occur, to that Little One right there,

That such magic could be conjured with billion lives to spare.

How did she unlock the Gate of Generosity, by which, genially

The River of Regular Pursuits ferries one invitingly to the Bright Shore.

Look at the little one, braving the choice alone,

Was she ever so little when she decided against the Zealot's Zone?

And chose instead, the Altruist's Alcove, ever willing to impart

Knowledge, empathy, skills and all that the River of Pursuits would have adorned

With silver gems, taking them to new horizons.

Such are those qualities that the little one wished to share,

And so aspired to teach, taking her place as the oarsman of the River,

When she had not so much as had a ride across it,

But she could ferry others, surely, and eventually reach there too,

It was a longer, harder, more unpromising plan,

But she was ready to be what very few could.

A Teacher.

When did she decide to devote herself to the betterment of others?

How many Paths of Progress has she saved from disuse?

How many cruisers has she ferried across the River of Pursuits

While her own  boat stays moored at the Altruist's Alcove,

Waiting for the others to dock, and then meeting them at the opposite shore.

Dear Teacher, I wonder how you could

Possess such a Treasure Trove of qualities

That no other mortal could possess.

And choose to impart these with your pupils,

Sacrificing every selfish pang that may in seconds

Overcome any resolution to give.

But as you give to us children, you deserve to take with you,

All that you deserve- foremost, our utmost Respect.

You are blessed with altruism seldom seen,

We are blessed with learning seamless,

At your hands.

But I have a question, that's puzzled me forever,

How did these noble personages resolve

To choose their profession?

As little ones?

Or as young ones?

Or quite-old ones?

Whenever, it was a decision bold,

And we are ever so grateful to it. 

Altruism is an art, a skill that one should hone,

Giving more and taking less, considering whose concern to address.

Bake yourself a cake, and resist that vexing temptation,

To hold the larger chunk to yourself; there is no better way to start.

The challenge that the task poses, speaks for the art. 

But just as tiny steps wedge long distances some day to come,

Generosity knows no bounds- it aspires to become,

Selflessness, philanthropy, requital, one golden day, martyrdom.

And devotion to these causes is a true winner's asset,

We love you dear teachers, for your unflinching grit.